


Singular Force of Will

by Sierra_Butterfly



Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: F/M, Takeshi Kovacs/Quellcrist Falconer [past]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 09:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18258326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sierra_Butterfly/pseuds/Sierra_Butterfly
Summary: Takeshi Kovacs has been described as many things. A CTAC soldier. An Envoy. A killer. A lover. But nothing has described him so well as this: a suicidal idiot who never gives up. Five years since leaving Ortega alone on Earth, Takeshi returns and reignites the flames of Ortega’s love for her suicidal idiot.





	Singular Force of Will

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. I haven't actually written fanfiction in something like three years now, but this pairing is easily one of my favorites and I've spent most of my vacation binging the show, so this got written when I should've been editing my own novel. 
> 
> Anyway, here it is. It's unbeta'd and only roughly edited, but I hope it's still enjoyable. If anyone has any prompts for this pairing I would be willing to tackle one-shots.

Despite the whirlwind of life as a lieutenant with the Bay City Police, Kristin Ortega’s life had settled down considerably. For the best. Or at least, that’s what Kristin kept trying to convince herself of. It was stupid to wait for the next big conspiracy like a child waits for Santa on Christmas Eve--stupid to thrive on adrenaline and explosions. 

And yet, Kristin craved it. She didn’t even care what  _ it _ was anymore, as long as it made her heart pound in her chest and her mind race to connect all the strings. Last month it was the biggest organic trafficking ring bust in a decade. Six months ago it was a serial killer. Two years ago she got abducted and narrowly escaped with her life, but she  _ had.  _ Obviously. 

None of it compared with the chaos of her life five years ago. 

Kristin tried convincing herself it was because of the arrests--arrests she was  _ still  _ known for. Or because it cleared Ryker’s name, even if his DHF had been contaminated with Rawling. 

She tried convincing herself it had nothing to do with the suicidal idiot that had strode in, stolen residence in her life and heart, and then stalked off to find the love of his life. 

She tried convincing herself she didn’t miss him, but on nights like tonight, it was all she could think about. Five years later.  _ God, how pathetic?  _ For the twentieth time in the past hour, Kristin turned over and kicked the cover into a more comfortable place. 

_ Crash!  _

“What the--” Kristin kicked the cover off and sprung to her feet, ignoring the chill that greeted her bare feet and the protest of her bad knee. Of their own accord, her fingers found the granulated grip of her gun, the familiar bite an instant reassurance as she padded across the hardwood floor of her bedroom. 

_ Th-thump!  _ Groaned curses accompanied the next crash. 

Kristin slipped out of her bedroom, gun raised, and squinted into the darkness. With the only light being the neon advertisements outside, she could barely make out the outlines of her furniture, the same as it was five years ago. 

_ Crunch.  _ Pain shot up her foot and she spared a glance to the ground to find glass shards. A few inches away she found the source: the lightbulb of her fallen lamp. 

Another groan, and Kristin dragged her gaze from the lamp to the couch. 

The occupied couch. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Kristin growled, finger halfway on the trigger. The lump clearly belonged to a man, too long and bulky to belong to the average woman at least. Even in the low-lighting, she could see the blood lining his trench-coat-covered frame. Blood that soaked into her couch, joining other bloodstains. Mostly her own, some still from Ryker and Takeshi. 

The lump shifted until a face, soot-covered and blood-streaked, peered out from beneath a mop of sweaty blond-brown hair. “Forget about me already, Ortega?” 

Heart in her throat, Kristin lowered the gun. “Kovacs?” 

In answer, Takeshi coughed, the wet sound dissolving into another groan. He shifted again, giving Kristin line of sight of his chest and the glass shrapnel sticking out of it. Too much glass. Too much blood. 

_ Goddamnit!  _ “Why the fuck are you here and not at a hospital?” she asked, discarding the gun on the coffee table and running to flick on the light. 

It looked so much worse in the light. 

No answer. His eyes were closed. 

“Stay awake, goddamnit! I swear too fucking god, Kovacs, if you show up just to die on my couch I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m not gonna die on you,” Takeshi mumbled. 

“Just on my couch, right?” Kristin returned to the couch with her meager medical kit and started rifling through its contents. Tweezers. Antisceptic. MediWand. 

“Careful, might think you missed me.” 

“Shut up.” 

Fingers, too-cool to the touch, grazed Kristin’s arm and drew her gaze to his. Clear and calm despite everything. “I missed you.” 

“Yeah? Well, you don’t get to tell me that.” Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, something akin to anger stirred. Smoldered. Jerkily, she grabbed the first piece of glass and pulled it out. She discarded it in a decorative bowl on the coffee table, then set about repeating the process for each shard. Twelve in all, the smallest the size of her pinky, the largest the size of her hand, none of them deeper than a couple of inches. 

Minor, compared to what it could have been. 

“Why not?” he asked eventually. 

“Five years. Five years without contact--”

“Two-way street, Ortega. My number never changed.” 

Kristin glared but said nothing, so of-fucking-course Takeshi continued. 

“You know why I didn’t. You know why  _ you  _ didn’t.” 

The last piece of shrapnel came out and clattered louder than the rest in the bowl, a testament to how hard Kristin tossed it into the mix. “Then why are you here now?” 

“You know why.” There was no humor in his expression as he lifted his fingers to graze Kristin’s cheek. “When I left you said two things to me. Remember them?” 

Of course, she did, but she said nothing all the same. 

“‘Good luck, Kovacs,’ and ‘Don’t come back until you  _ know _ .’” He paused, that intense look crossing his horror-wizened eyes. “I know.” 

Maybe it was cruel, but Kristin needed to hear it. Needed to know for sure. “And?” 

“Quell is gone. Rei...had a failsafe.” 

She reached up and squeezed his fingers, genuine sorrow pinching in her chest. “I’m sorry.” 

“So am I,” he murmured as he pulled her close enough to wrap his arms around her, holding her flush against his chest despite the blood and pain, mental and physical. Holding her as though she were the last string tethering him to anything tangible. 

Perhaps she was...his last string. 

Just as he was the salve to her need for something more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sidenote, I couldn't find what the medical wand was called in the series (we see Kristin use it on Takeshi near the middle of the season) so I substituted "MediWand" for it. If anyone knows what it's actually called I'm more than happy to edit in the correct term.


End file.
